


Infuriating and Unbelievable

by Infinity2020



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Attraction, Blackmail, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mild Language, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Past Relationship(s), Protective Richard, Self-Hatred, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinity2020/pseuds/Infinity2020
Summary: Thomas was not interested in his new collegue. Nope.He had enough on his plate as it was.He was just curious, that was all.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Philip Duke of Crowborough, Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 16
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring TotallySmitten Yet VeryInDenial!Thomas Barrow & TotallySmitten And JustAsStubborn!Richard Ellis, with a side of TroubleStirring!Philip Villiers.
> 
> After reading brilliant series from [Waistcoat35](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35) and [InfiniteCalm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteCalm/pseuds/InfiniteCalm), I instinctively jotted down a ridiculous pile of feels; I tried to gather it into some semblance of a story... well, it's still just a messy ball of angsty soppy feels LOL.  
> English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes. I've always been more of a reader than a writer, words and structure are not my strong points. I had to write and rewrite so much my head was spinning!
> 
> WARNINGS: while the worst tags are mostly implied, they could be a trigger. I rated the fic M for dark themes.

In the end, it all started with a hug and a bout of tears.   
No, scratch that. It had started way before that.

Let's rewind. 

Thomas Barrow wasn't paying much attention when a transferring co-worker occupied the office next door to his. It was nothing new, nothing exceptionally interesting, wasn't it? 

Thus, he did **not** freeze in shock when said co-worker turned out to be a 6' ft hot blend of shrewd dark blue eyes, engaging quirks of lips and confident manner. He did **not** swallow his own tongue when he found himself on the receiving end of a stunning, very much intrigued smile. And for the record, his heart was **not** dancing a wild, joyous tango as the owner of said attributes proceeded to awaken emotions Thomas had honestly labelled 'dead and buried'.

That man was just... infuriatingly attractive. Or was he attractively infuriating? Was that even possible? 

Yes, yes it was. 

* * *

Thomas pursued his lips in annoyance. Even if he took into account his non-relationship with Philip, saying his romantic life was non-existent at the moment would have been an understatement, but he did not need a new beau on the job - no matter how fast he made his heart race, _the little traitor_.  
Or did he? After all, the forced interactions with Philip were limited to work-related matters; it's not as if he cared about what Thomas did in private anymore, and vice versa. Still, for some reason, the whole idea spelled trouble waiting to ensue. 

No, Thomas was going to follow the reasonable path and be completely professional around the bloke.  
Even if he did have nice hands. And strong-looking shoulders. And frequently mischievous eyes.

He was not going to let that man get to him. No way. Full stop. 

Except when he totally did. 

* * *

"Here's tea with a dash of milk for you, Mr Barrow." 

Taken aback in his drowsy state, Thomas could only blink at a lovely vision of slightly tanned skin and square jaw, until he managed to focus on a fresh, cheerful Richard Ellis. He reflexively took the cup being offered, his arm quivering as their fingers grazed. Murmuring a grudging 'thank you', he made an effort to fix his bleary eyes into a scowl; unfortunately, he hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, tossing and turning due to a couple of pesky little dreams - dreams which did **not** include any sexual activities **nor** the person standing right next to him, just to be clear (he was not a horny 16 year-old anymore, seriously). He took a tentative sip from his cup and deemed it satisfactory, which begged the question: how on earth did he manage the exact way Thomas took his tea? He must have taken incredibly accurate note that one other time they had spoken near the coffee machine. And no, Thomas was **not** impressed at his memory **nor** flattered by it. At all.   
  
Completely unperturbed by the unfriendly air, Richard went on: "As much as I find your pouting skills truly endearing, let's not scare off the latest interns so soon, shall we?" He nodded towards a tiny young woman (Daisy, if he recalled correctly) who was staring at Thomas with big eyes, looking halfway between awed and intimidated. 

And there came Richard's amused, tight-lipped little smile of his, which was absolutely **not** making his stomach flip with suppressed excitement. That would have been absurd. He had probably eaten something bad at lunch, that was all.

Then his awakening brain properly caught up to the first half of what Richard had said, and screeched to a halt. _'Wait a moment... endearing pout?!'_  
His immediate uncharitable thought was that his co-worker must have been suffering from a head trauma, because first of all, he was not 'pouting', and secondly, sane people didn't use words like 'endearing' to refer to Thomas, in any connection whatsoever. Unsure of how to react to the unusual comment, he resolved to deepen his scowl, at a stage which would have sent most of his collegues into an uncerimonious scatter. To his chagrin, Richard was somehow immune to it; his smile widened to show a hint of teeth, eyes twinkling with bizarre fondness.   
It was utterly mystifying. He acted as if he were beholding something... adorable - which was preposterous; such a term was reserved for children or puppies, or possibly unicorns.

In no universe could _Thomas_ remotely qualify as _something adorable._

_'This man..._

_... **infuriating**.'_

* * *

In the end, it all started with a hug and a bout of tears.   
No, that wasn't true. It had started way before that.

Let's rewind again.

On the day of his transfer, Richard Ellis wasn't paying that much attention to his new, admittedly quite nice, workplace. It was nice, yet nothing really noteworthy, wasn't it? 

Thus, he all but counted his lucky stars - and his collection of moon-themed items, for extra thankfulness - when he met the _fascinating_ male specimen working in the office next to his. Yes, he was definitely proven wrong when a 6' ft hot mix of piercing light blue eyes, sassy quips and prickly demeanour methaporically smacked him in the face with all the force of a hurricane. His heart was all but dancing a wild, joyous tango as he proceeded to court (read: flirt and fluster) the apparently reluctant - in truth not-so-much, as he would soon discover - object of his attention. 

That man was just... unbelievably gorgeous. Or was he gorgeously unbelievable? He couldn't decide.

Both, he was both. 

* * *

Richard stroked his chin in thought. Alone as he had been for a while, saying his romantic life was uneventful at the moment would have been an understatement, but that didn't mean he needed something excessively complicated. Besides, it wasn't cricket to go after a bloke who might have been kind of involved with someone else, although there seemed to be no love lost, from what little he had seen so far.

Nonetheless, his at times overactive mind kept drifting to him, recollecting various details, his lithe body, his magnificent eyes - so icy at a careless first glance, to Richard they appeared fragile, like cracked glass; ready to shatter at the slightest push. 

He felt he had to reach out to him. He had to get to him. Full stop. 

Except the other man got to him first.

* * *

Richard stood in the middle of his office and furrowed his brows in confusion. Before he had left for a quick errand, he could have sworn there had been three brownies left in the plate on his desk, not two. He carefully scanned the room; as far as he could see, nothing else looked out of place. The brownie issue might have been trivial, but had somebody taken advantage of his brief absence to snoop about, for whatever reason? Because who would sneak into his office _just to pilfer a treat-_

"Lost something, Mr Ellis?" 

He turned towards the open door and spotted a vision of sleek black hair and fair skin: Thomas Barrow was leaning leisurely on the wooden jamb, not unlike a proud natural creature in all his alluring glory. Feeling a surge of glee at his presence, Richard offered him a small grin. 

_'You might be young, but you're a grown man. Stay calm. Be cool.'_

Well, it was hard to remain cool when the main star of his latest dreams (literally) was displaying himself like that-

_'For God's sake, he is simply standing in your office... you are a hopeless case!'_

"Well, it seems like I've fallen victim to a peculiar theft." He gestured to the remaining brownies. "A thief with a sweet tooth."

Dark eyebrows arched in a blatant mock expression of surprise; Richard's aloof co-worker appeared to be in an unusually perky mood, an impish twist in his features. 

"Is that so... got any potential suspects?" Thomas drawled. He leaned his head backwards against the wood behind him, the small movement raising and bringing out his full, vividly pink lips, which Richard absolutely, unashamedly zeroed in on. Was it casual or was he doing it on purpose? He had the distinct impression there were not many things this guy left to chance. 

With growing elation, he was sure he had detected a teasing, knowing glint in Thomas' eyes. On that hunch, he played along: "A few... though something tells me the real culprit is _closer_ than I expect."

A flash of a smirk underneath half-lidded sky irises. "That would make a very _silly_ thief, wouldn't it?" 

Considering what occurred next, Richard strongly believed he deserved a standing ovation, followed by an award, for the masterful fashion in which he had keept his reactions under control.   
To his astonishment, Thomas lifted one hand to his face, wicked tongue coming out - and **no way** this was happening right in front of him, well, **yes way** it was, and _**like hell** _was he missing a second of it - and gracefully licking away a trace of brown from his fingers, with deliberate slowness.   
Frozen to the spot, Richard's breath caught in his throat, a delighted shiver running up and down his spine.

_'This man..._

_... **unbelievable**.'_

* * *

While tapping away at the keyboard, Thomas glimpsed a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye and looked up towards the half-open door; the space on the other side of his office desk was empty. He shook his head quickly and returned his attention to the screen. He must have been more tired than he thought.   
Even so, he had the weirdest feeling he was being watched. Turning away again from the computer, he found himself face to face with a pair of intense golden eyes; letting out an embarrassing yelp he would deny to his grave, he drew back in shock.   
A large black and white cat was casually perched on a high stack of papers at the top left corner of the table, sleek fluffy tail wrapped neatly around its paws. Thomas blinked repeatedly, wondering if he was imagining things: no, his eyesight was in working order, and yes, a _bloody cat_ was on his desk. By instinct, he glared at the harmless, but unexpected intruder; the cat stared back, totally unfazed - and didn't that remind him of a certain someone?

"Where did you come from?!"

In the meantime, the feline had apparently determined the human was worthy of closer regard, and resolved to steamroller him into a _let's cuddle!_ invitation: a few seconds later, a nonplussed Thomas had a meowing lapful of warm, furry creature. "Now, wait a second-" 

"Oh, there you are, Butler!"

Richard had come inside as well and was evidently restraining a laugh at what he had stumbled upon: it basically appeared like a milder, more innocent roles-reversed version of that 'Pepé le Pew & Penelope Pussycat' old cartoon. He idly wondered whether he could get away with filming a part of the funny little scene; then again, he might have spontaneously combusted under the ferocious glare such an action would have undoubtedly invoked. Not that it ever affected him as it did normal people, who were inclined to find it menacing; according to Richard, Thomas just glowered in a very pretty way. 

At his exclamation, the other man paused in his half-hearted attempts to push the cat off. _"... Butler?"_

Had Thomas been outside his direct line of sight, Richard was positive he would have _heard_ the raised eyebrow accompanying his query. 

"Yes, I named him Butler. It fits nicely with his colouring, doesn't it?"

Thomas managed to pick up the affectionate feline, and gingerly deposited him back on the table in order to examine him more thoroughly. Sure enough, his fur was completely black save for the white on his throat and chest, in a shape which gave the illusion of a butler livery. 

He absolutely did **not** find the whole thing cute.

* * *

As he felt something brush particularly hard against his shins, twice in a row, Thomas interrupted himself mid-sentence and let out a long-suffering sigh. He was at it again. It happened like clockwork whenever Richard dropped in bearing cups of tea, with loyal Butler trotting at his heels: while they chatted, their furry companion would stare at Thomas with huge, somehow pleading eyes (he was not going to give in to _a cat_ and do whatever the cat wanted, thank you), then spend a good few minutes twining around his legs with varying levels of pressure. Continuously. 

And for the record, it's **not** like Thomas was falling all over himself to spend time with Richard. Still, he enjoyed the visits, and Richard bringing him tea was a nice gesture, wasn't it? So he always made sure to thank him warmly and talk with him for a while.   
Just to be polite, of course. He could be polite.   
And they were becoming friends, weren't they? Well, sort of... he didn't really make friends; befriending people was not an activity he excelled at. Gaining allies for a common purpose, that was more his thing. 

_'Sort of friends, right. Did you conveniently forget about the brownie incident?'_

"A forgivable lapse of judgement" he had reasoned with himself afterwards, "caused by the undeniable sexual tension".  
Thomas had functioning eyes and a healthy libido, after all. It was rather hard to pass up the chance to flirt with (read: seduce) a very handsome man, cut him some slack. 

"Mr Ellis?"

He also made a point not to address him by his first name; it was better to retain some degree of formality, in any case. Not that it actually worked as intended, because...

"Yes, Mr Barrow?" Was Thomas imagining things, or was his timbre more gravelly than usual? 

... every time Richard pronounced his last name, it sounded _anything but formal_. 

_'Get a grip.'_

"May I point out your cat has been _rubbing himself against me_ for the past ten minutes... he never stops!"

"He does it because he likes you a lot." Richard explained after taking another sip from his own cup of tea-with-one-sugar. 

"It's distracting."

"Sorry about that." Naturally, his tone was entirely unapologetic, the bastard. "You should pick him up; he will settle down, eventually."

He let out a scoff at the idea of indulging Butler, who certainly did not live up to the dignified standards of the old-fashioned position whose title he carried around; physical aspect aside, trust Richard to give an unsuitable name to the most lively feline ever. Thomas reckoned he could have chosen worse though: despite his collected exterior, his 'office neighbour' occasionally displayed a cheeky inappropriate streak not unlike his own, which he had to concede was relentlessly entertaining. 

"I guess Butler and I are similar in some ways." Richard remarked. 

"... how? Well, I suppose you both have very fluffy hair." Thomas snarked a bit. 

He was treated to an extremely amused smirk. "How would you know my hair is fluffy?" 

He was not going to dignify that with an answer. He had never visualized himself running a hand through Richard's short brown hair and finding it soft. Never. 

"To answer your question, we both enjoy paying close attention to things and people _we like_..."

Light blue eyes snapped up to meet much darker ones, gaze sharp and heavy. 

_'Get.A.Grip.'_

"... the difference is: _he_ is the lucky rascal who can get away with rubbing against them _anytime_." 

Thomas promptly chocked on his tea. 

* * *

Coming back from a meeting which had lasted far longer than expected, Richard made a beeline for Thomas' office to retrieve Butler and knocked quietly. As he was bid to go in, he contemplated how glad he was he had managed to persuade him (read: coax him with brownies) to 'cat-sit' until his return. To be honest, Butler generally was a well-behaved pet and he could cope with being left alone, but it was obvious he didn't prefer it. Far better for Richard to be on the safe side, when he had the former option available - even if it did involve bribing Thomas with his favourite chocolate treats. 

He couldn't hold back a low, hearty chuckle at the frankly adorable picture he found: Butler was curled up on Thomas' lap, gently butting his head under his chin and happily purring in triumph; for his part, his friend was pretending - and failing rather miserably - to remain indifferent as he worked on his computer.

"Told you so last time, didn't I?" 

Thomas coloured a bit, pursuing is lips in a way that made Richard want to grab him and nip at them. Very thoroughly. "If I can't get all the fur out of my suit, I will dump my laundry on you."

"Fair enough." He made a show of observing them thoughtfully. "You two are quite cozy. Shall I leave you alone tonight? I promise I won't be jealous." He teased. 

The blushing visibly intensified - and wasn't that the most captivating sight he had witnessed in a long while, Richard deeply wished he could admire that flush in _different circumstances_ , too. Thomas levelled a glare at him, but the desired threatening effect was nullified further by the fact he was absent-mindedly scratching behind the cat's ears. 

Richard kept laughing; he was just too precious. 

* * *

"That Ellis chap who recently transferred to your department... he sure has been hanging around you a lot." 

To anyone else who might have happened to overhear their conversation, Philip Villiers' words would have sounded light, almost teasing; nonetheless, Thomas perceived the undercurrent of steel in his deceptively warm tone, recognized the hidden message: "you're getting awfully close".   
He was hard-pressed not to bristle. He couldn't remember the last instance when Philip had given a damn about who Thomas was socializing with (and it's not like he was dating Richard, mind you), and now, out of the blue, he had decided to subtly throw some jealous fit? It could just be Philip acting like a fucking dick; the former and the latter had often been one and the same. Or maybe he disliked it going on under his nose, as Thomas hadn't manifested any signs of interest in another collegue since their break-up.   
Arranging his features in an unconcerned expression, Thomas went for a similarly easy tone: "His office is right next to mine, we were bound to mingle." 

"Come on, Thomas." Philip lowered his voice. "Let's not beat around the bush. Do whatever you want outside the job; here, stop getting distracted and focus more on what I want you to do, when I tell you to do it. After all, you're responsible for landing yourself in this predicament, don't you agree?" 

He refused to take the bait. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't deny the facts - Philip might have pulled the trap-door open, but Thomas' own backfired attempt to get back at him had led to the downward fall. 

"It would be a shame if the fellow got involved as well by accident."

Thomas stood stock-still, feeling as if a bucket of freezing water had suddenly been dumped on him. He supposed he ought to be grateful their relationship was truly over; the following messy break-up had left bitterness on both sides (a considerable amount of it in Thomas' case), too much to ever rekindle anything. Philip was plenty satisfied with him doing some questionable work at his bidding.   
However, Thomas wasn't in a position where he could ignore the potential threat implied in those words; he couldn't risk a wrong move, not with Philip being as shady as ever.

_'You got sloppy, you should have known he would get nosy. You can't let him get more suspicious and cause problems.'_

A voice inside of him, the little voice that once in a while would fuel his anger and doubts and fears and regrets, transformed into a roaring and whining beast, rattling its cage. It was a vain struggle; until Philip had power over him, that was how things would be. 

A sense of foreboding gripped him, like a heavy leaden cable winding and slowly tightening around his chest. 

* * *

"Why have you been avoiding me?" 

Breath hitching, Thomas fought to keep his expression from betraying anything, even as his traitorous heart started to beat frantically, so loudly he was convinced the whole building would hear it at some point.  
The tiny seed of guilt born of ignoring Richard for several weeks had grown and festered, taking its toll on him: he was constantly strung out, a hair's breadth away from biting somebody's head off (the interns, in particular, were low-key terrified, twitching like nervous squirrels whenever they happened to be in the same room as him).   
For his part, Richard had been justifiably bemused, his normally serene features twisting into a frown each time Thomas barely awknowledged his presence and treated him as if he were a random stranger. It was nothing short of a miracle Thomas had not been cornered and directly pushed for an explanation until now; or Richard was merely too polite to instantly resort to such a tactic. Butler had not helped matters any, sneaking into his office every now and then to stare and meow at him pitifully - and Thomas could have sworn the little bugger looked somewhere between mournful and reproachful.   
He didn't know how much longer he could carry on like this, but he wasn't looking forward to the oncoming conversation either. 

Steeling himself and forcing his whole body in a pretence of coolness, he raised his chin to gaze at Richard straight in the eyes - _it's too hard, it's too much_ \- and affected a detached tone: "I have been busy, Mr Ellis, and my existence does not revolve around you." 

He felt a surge of anxiety when it didn't seem to have the desired effect. 

"Is it because of Villiers?"

Richard was too perceptive for his own good, or proficient at obtaining information; maybe it was a bit of both. 

"I know you're not really together, so what influence does he have on you?" 

_'Bloody hell.'_

He was coming way too close to the truth.

To be honest, he was floored by this turn of events: while nobody with a functioning brain would ever mistake Richard for a shrinking violet, Thomas hadn't expected him to be so frank, so ridiculously bold when confronting him about his renewed attempts to keep a distance between them.   
He couldn't let it go on any longer, he had to nip it in the bud. 

_'Stop being anxious, breathe.'_ "No idea what you're on about." ' _Cold, as cold as you can be, drive the blade home.'_ "I have simply decided I have better things to do in my life than waste my time with the likes of you."

His inner beast started howling and biting at its own flanks, as in a devastated act of self-punishment; Thomas couldn't recall having hated himself more than he was after spitting out that venomous sentence and, for one insane moment, he almost gave in. He had verbally hurt people before, but it was the first time he had done so to a person he could have learnt to call a proper friend... 

_'It's too late to take it back. The damage is done.'_

Richard's typical composure was gone. He had visibly recoiled at those words dripping with practiced malice, his back going rigid and his features hardening into something akin to a mix of anger and disappointment; Thomas felt his throat constrict as the stern expression made Richard appear somewhat intimidating, enough that he had the weird impulse to back away, like a beaten dog with his tail between his legs. Was that how _burning shame_ felt like? 

"As you wish." The reply was quiet though, sounding defeated. 

The silence falling in the aftermath was so uncomfortable, so oppressive, that Thomas had to exercise every ounce of self-control he could gather not to bolt straight away.  
Then, against all odds, Richard slightly cocked his head to the side and his eyes softened noticeably, the corners of his mouth curling up in a tiny, genuine smile, albeit a rather sad one. And Thomas hated the smile, he couldn't stand it, he didn't _deserve_ it-

"But I'm not one to give up easily, if it's something worth fighting for."

_'What...?!'_

Thomas froze in shock at the unexpected, enigmatic declaration, his heart flexing almost painfully in his chest, the lump in his throat making it harder to breathe. Unable to react, he stood rooted to the spot as Richard turned and strode off.

* * *

Richard couldn't recall having ever met a more complex man than Thomas Barrow; haughty and prickly as he usually appeared at a first glance, Richard doubted many people had taken it upon themseves to break through those hard walls and discover his most sensitive, most vulnerable facets.   
Even now, even as thrown as he was by the chilly demenour and stabbing words, Richard forced himself to ignore his own hurt and threw all his focus in an attempt to detect what flickered underneath the surface: anger definitely, perhaps desperation; the other man had sometimes struck him as 'lonely in a crowd', as if unable to completely belong (a sensation Richard was familiar with to an extent). Thomas might have been an excellent liar, but Richard himself was no slouch at deception - not a skill he was normally proud of; he would be glad to make an exception in this occasion, especially if he managed to get through to his friend.   
Because something had changed, something else was going on, he was sure of it. Thomas had been wary before, hints of gentleness and playfulness shining through the more he got comfortable with him; presently he behaved around Richard the same way one would act in proximity to a minefield, for lack of a better analogy (unless he couldn't dodge him entirely). 

In the end, was Thomas undeserving of help? Richard had no idea what he had gone through in the past, though he had picked up on various clues along the way. Had he gone down a dark road, getting embroiled with the wrong people? Had he done questionable things, perhaps in a misguided effort to survive and protect himself? Or did he believe he had hit rock-bottom, on his lonesome, with no strenght to climb back up?  
And was Philip Villiers somewhat responsible for the current situation? It was a plausible theory, given what he had noted about the good-looking yet slimy wanker. If that was the case, he would find out. Although he couldn't go after Villiers by himself, he did have a few aces up his sleeve. Thomas might end up hating him for getting involved, but Richard would take his hate over the shell of a man he was devolving into. 

"But I'm not one to give up easily, if it's something worth fighting for."

And if he got even an inkling Thomas considered himself unworthy and beyond saving, then Richard would go all out to prove him wrong.

_'In for a penny, in for a pound.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Thomas and Richard's opposite tea preferences are a tiny reference to one of my favourite stories, [Keep me warm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070896/chapters/52671409) by [Once_More_With_Feeling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Once_More_With_Feeling/pseuds/Once_More_With_Feeling). It's a wonderful Thomas/Richard & Everyone hurt/comfort fic!  
> 2) Butler is a nod to another lovely fic, [make peace with the stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578897) by [clumsyclouds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsyclouds/pseuds/clumsyclouds)!


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell do you want?" 

Thomas didn't care how rude he was coming across; he was in his own office and stewing in a spectacularly foul mood, therefore Philip could just fucking deal with it, as his presence certainly wasn't going to improve it. 

If Richard had been there, he would have made a joke about Thomas resembling a sour bear woken too soon from his winter hibernation, or something equally ridiculous. Not that Richard had witnessed him exactly like this... with him, Thomas' repressed wish for approval always burst from its tight confines, not unlike water from a ruptured pipe; he instinctively mellowed, struggling to rein his spiky side - and failing more often than not. However, while Richard had unconsciously pushed him to be better, he had never made him feel any less than a human being worthy of respect, never made him feel as if he shouldn't be who he was; he had simply encouraged him to let out a softer, more open version of himself, at least in his presence, for Thomas' own sake more than anything else.

_'He is not here and he is not going to be back... because you drove him away.'_

After their confrontation weeks ago, Richard had kept his word and left him alone for the most part... which was what he had aimed at, wasn't it? 

Except it wasn't... but there was no use dwelling on it.

At least part of him was there in a way, namely Butler, sitting ramrod straight at the corner of his desk. Philip had eyed him with distaste as he came in, and the feeling must have been mutual, because the usually soppy cat had let out a feral hiss as the man got close. Thomas had felt irrationally proud at that.

And what was his sodding ex waltzing in for, anyway? As far as he knew, he had no specific reason to be around today. 

Calculating brown orbs pinned him down. "Thomas, dear Thomas, remember who you're speaking to." How he despised hearing his name from him, now more than ever. "Let's say... after our last talk, I realized I was a tad unfair. I didn't think about how you might be feeling... lonely, here."

He couldn't help becoming tense. He didn't like wherever this was going - for all his loquacious personality, Philip rarely initiated a conversation without an underlying motivation or objective. 

"Wouldn't be any of your business if I were, would it?"

"I could make it so."

Before he could react, Philip had already grasped one of his hands in what was meant to be an enticing caress; it made his skin crawl. He pulled his arm away roughly and heard another hiss behind him, which suggested Butler was unnerved by the exchange. _'That makes two of us.'_

"You've got to be joking! We both agreed it was over. Vehemently agreed, as I recall."

"Yes, we did... but you can't deny we had our good moments. There is nothing stopping us from resuming our... encounters. Would it be such a bad thing?"

_'Yes, it would be. It would be, because I can barely tolerate having you near me, never mind getting back together. It would be, because I haven't wanted you in a long time, and I never will again. The only one I want-'_

He abruptly cut off that dangerous train of thoughts. _'No.Dwelling.'_

"Well, I'm not interested, thank you."

Whatever hint of disappointment had been there at Thomas' refusal was washed away by a callous face and a scornful laugh.

"As if you have a choice." 

Thomas stopped breathing. Ears ringing with the echo of that brief yet powerful sentence, he felt his stomach clench and bile rise in his throat. Maybe he had heard wrong. All considering, Philip would not fall so low as to-

"Don't be late tonight. You know I don't fancy being kept waiting."

-he apparently was, he wasn't taking no for an answer.

_'Congratulations, Barrow. You've exceeded yourself: broken your personal record and made things worse for yourself in the space of a few months.'_

He was officially screwed.

_'Why do you always do this? Why do you try and reach for what you can't have?_

_Let's see how you get out of this one, without losing your job and more.'_

And that was the point... Thomas was completely blindsided by this sudden turn for the worse. After the last trouble he had kind of brought upon himself, he had grown more and more despondent, shying away from getting involved with Philip and the like more than he had to. He had resigned himself to handle his current negative situation without attracting further misfortune-

_'And here is the proof you did a stellar job, truly.'_

God, it was a nightmare... one he didn't have a readily available plan for. There was no magical solution, no good fairy coming down on a moonbeam (which, incidentally, was the fancy title Richard had bestowed on a droll figurine he employed as paperweight, something Thomas loved to make fun of - and wasn't it strange and absurd this memory got a half-choked laugh out of him, when he was a step away from breaking down and crying?)

* * *

Richard immediately felt his hackles raise as Philip Villiers exited Thomas' office. Before he was even aware of what he had done, he had swiftly hidden behind a nearby pillar, a singular instinct all but yelling at him "don't let him see you, don't draw attention". He wasn't afraid of him, far from it, yet acuity and caution were paramount when it came to dealing with such individuals, and his instincts seldom let him down. Villiers was sporting a triumphant glint in his eyes and a satisfied curl of mouth; Richard would bet his collection of moon souvenirs he was up to no good, possibly worse than usual. He waited until the guy was out of sight, then resumed walking in the hallway.   
He was proven right: only a handful of seconds later, Thomas himself strode out with a downright thunderous expression, to say the least, a packet of cigarettes crumpled in his hand. He faltered when he noticed Richard, a wisp of - anguish? - crossing his face, before he hurried away. His exit was followed by Butler's, who purred and trilled contentedly when his owner crouched down to let him jump and settle against his shoulder. 

"If you could talk, you would be the best spy in the world, you rascal."

Richard took a slow breath and readied himself. Whatever was happening, it seemed like he was just in time to put his little scheme in action; and to make things easier for him, there was no one else inside or around Thomas' office at present.   
He had never deemed himself a cruel or spiteful person, yet he allowed his lips to form a rare harsh twist. Villiers wouldn't know what hit him. 

* * *

Thomas massaged his aching temples and suppressed a weary sigh, trying to distract himself by focusing on his latest project.   
In vain. In a few hours he would have to face a much worse dilemma, in any case. It wasn't like he had never employed sex in a bargain; while it wasn't ideal in itself, there had always been an understanding between the parties, it had been mutually beneficial, but what was coming... there had been no negotiation, no compromise, no option to back out. Not to mention, the thought of going back to Philip specifically filled him with revulsion. Part of him wished to let loose, start throwing things everywhere, scream until his throat was raw, though he was aware losing control of his senses would be no help. Well, he had already lost control of his life, hadn't he? Philip had taken so much from Thomas, would there be any traces left of his will, any traces left of him?   
He couldn't catch a break, could he?

_'And whose fault is that, really? What is done is done, Barrow. Stop crying over spilt milk.'_

God, he needed another smoke. He threw open the top drawer of his office desk, where he always kept his stash of cigarettes, and did a double take next as his eyes fell on a totally unfamiliar object tucked inside: a silver folder with the design of a crescent moon. _'What...?'_  
As he grabbed it and started flipping through the papers in it, his eyes went wide: if these documents were what he thought they were... and who else could have...?   
Gripping the folder tightly with shaky fingers, Thomas rushed out of his office and went to knock on Richard's door, which was ajar; hearing no answer, he tentatively pushed it open further only to find the room empty save for a blissfully asleep Butler, sprawled on the keyboard of all places. He exited the office and proceeded towards the lounge at a brisk pace, almost running over one of the interns in his haste. Rounding the corner, he immediately spotted a familiar tall frame near the coffee machine. As if sensing the weight of his gaze, Richard turned and locked eyes with him without flinching; catching sight of the silver folder, his lips slowly spread in a knowing smile and he _winked_ at Thomas, who vaguely heard his inner creature whimper in a medley of relief and hope, even as he ruthlessly squashed it. Wondering if he should pull him aside and talk to him straight away, he resolved to wait when Richard was called away by another collegue. 

* * *

"It appears I underestimated you... To be fair, I should have predicted you might pull a stunt at some point. How long have you been planning your move?" 

Philip's voice sounded fairly calm, measured, but Thomas recognized the signs; his ex was definitely aggravated, simply quite good at hiding it (he had generally been a better liar than Thomas).   
He knew he had been beaten at his own game and he despised it. However, Thomas took notice of his slightly hunched shoulders and the lack of a belligerent tone; from what he had gathered by reading the stolen documents, Philip was actually threading on very thin ice in regard to his job, as of late... to an extent which made Thomas guilty of minor indiscretions in comparison. Combined with the fact Richard had also retrieved the documents implicating Thomas himself - which he had promptly burned - he inferred Philip wasn't going to take the unfavourable risk to retaliate. 

Abruptly, he also realized Philip wasn't aware at all of Richard's involvement. Whether this was due to Thomas having more or less effectively ignored his co-worker for weeks on end, or was a credit to Richard's circumspection skills, he wasn't sure. He most likely believed Thomas had somehow gone and obtained help from somebody above Philip himself, which was the most reasonable assumption, after all. As a matter of fact, Thomas had got no other acquaintance of that type to call into play; he had been too shaken by the disastrous consequences of his previous recklessness. He did inwardly share the same assumption though; to pull such a feat, Richard must have collaborated with a powerful source. 

In the end, it didn't really matter. What mattered was keeping his ex under the convinction it had been Thomas' initiative - it was the least he could do for Richard. To that purpose, he gave a nonchalant shrug and arranged his mouth in the nastiest smirk he could muster, to which Philip answered with a sneer of his own. 

"Who is your next target, then? You were in deep enough with me... what did you promise in exchange to whoever acted on your behalf, I wonder?"

 _'Don't let anything show, don't react, don't react.'_ "I have no idea what you're talking about, dear." 

Philip bristled at the mockingly sweet endearment and threw him a hateful look.

"With the debt you now owe to this mysterious benefactor, you're in way over your head. Just wait and see."

Thomas spun on his heels and walked away.

* * *

Once alone and back in the relative safety of his office, Thomas was unable to linger on his newfound freedom, as Philip's parting shots had all but blasted open a can of worms. Sickly dread crept over him and twisted his stomach into painful knots at the knowledge that he was now, for better or worse, indebted to Richard Ellis... still liable to be blackmailed, if the other man were inclined to such a thing.   
As pleasant as Richard had been since they met, ultimately Thomas couldn't say he knew him very well. In the past, he had severely misjudged people on that tiny, unstable basis. Could he bring himself to take a leap of faith and trust him? Their shared predilection for inappropriate banter aside, he had pegged Richard as a never-do-wrong bloke. If anything, the daring stunt had revealed the truth: his clever friend was definitely not a saint and could play tricky and dirty when necessary, not to mention he must have got remarkable connections.

_'Stop deceiving yourself into thinking you're friends. And do you believe he counts you as one after the way you treated him?'_

Those last words Richard had told him-

_'Because you can trust every pretty word they say... be realistic: why would he have done this, if he didn't expect something in exchange for what he has managed, or for what he has discovered?'_

And who knew what else he had got his hands on... he might have got other stuff incriminating Thomas. What if his behaviour was all an elaborate facade? If it was, he was a damn good actor. And what type of payment would he require? Had Thomas fallen out of the frying pan straight into the fire? 

_'Stop overthinking!_

_You know how to play this game: stall for time and keep him distracted while you plan your next move.  
So what if he demands things from you? Sex will be at the top of his list... yes, he lusts after you, that's always been pretty obvious; and you flirting and then pulling back won't have made him happy... whatever he wants, give it to him.   
So what if he's planning to use you? Worse comes to worst, you could come to an arrangement with him; it has payed off before.  
You desire him too, anyway; you would be hitting two birds with one stone.   
You desire him too, admit it, so why are you getting so worked up? What's your real issue?'_

Far from subsiding, the nausea churning in his stomach only grew stronger and stronger. 

_'Because you actually **like** him'_ the voice in the back of his mind whispered incredulously. ' _You truly, seriously like him...'_

_'You miserable fool... this guy could make your life hell and you go and fall for him?!'_

Yes... why would Richard be interested in a relationship, when he might have the leverage to keep Thomas at his beck and call?

_'Forget it and pull yourself together. These ridiculous emotions will destroy you..._

_... you're such a fool.'_

* * *

Richard startled a bit as he heard a couple of knocks at the door, although he awaited who was behind it; Thomas had texted him in the morning and they had agreed to meet in Richard's office in the late afternoon hours, when everyone else had already gone home for the day. At his prompt 'come in', the other man entered and shut the door in a brusque manner. Richard, who was seated at his desk with Butler snuggling on his lap, tilted his head up to gaze at him and was unpleasantly struck by his remarkably pale and uneasy countenance; while he hadn't expected Thomas to be glad of the intrusion in his affairs, he had anticipated a grain of relief at the very least, or maybe a display of anger, even fury. 

He went to speak, to ask, but he was beaten to it: "How did you do it?"

"I've got my own tricks and a few favours to collect in high places. I'd prefer to leave it at that."

"What do you expect, then?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why did you do it?!" 

Richard was quite perplexed to notice Thomas growing more distressed, a shudder wracking his body and frustration plain in his voice.   
Taking the time to carefully drop a protesting Butler on the chair, he stood up and rounded the desk so that he was facing him directly, close enough to touch. And touch he did, slipping his right hand into Thomas', his thumb stroking gently at the back.

"I think my main reasons have always been clear." Hopefully this would bring a modicum of reassurance. 

To his utmost concern, it had the opposite effect: Thomas kept visibly trembling and he suddenly looked on the verge of tears. Warning bells started to ring in his head; there was something terribly wrong with this picture. 

"Mr Barrow? What's the matter?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Mr Ellis."

Naturally, he was anything but convinced, given the glaring evidence to the contrary. A shadow was darting around in the murky waters of their floundering conversation, like a hungry yet wary fish, and if he could manage to corner it long enough... 

"You're not. Please, talk to me-"

"Drop the act!" Thomas exploded, shocking him into letting go and stepping back. "I know how it works. I owe you, so stop doing this and just tell me exactly what you want!" 

Caught off guard, Richard's mind went blank for a moment. _'What is he talking about?'_

Whatever it was, it was making things worse by the minute; frantically, he dove into an internal review of his friend's odd behaviour and sentences, again and again. _What do you expect, then?_

 _Drop the act!_ ... the near tearful eyes... _know how it works_ ... the apprehensive, borderline frightened expression... _I owe you - tell me what you want!_

The alarming implications - such slippery fish - which were now bubbling just underneath the surface were finally caught in the net. 

_I owe you what you want._

Richard went deathly still. _'_ _No way...'_

They broke through, and coalesced, and hardened into sharp blades, piercing his brain.

_I will give you whatever you want._

There was absolutely no way Thomas had actually assumed Richard would-

_'Bloody hell, he did.'_

He clenched his jaw and bit back what would have been an extremely colourful swear. _'When did you become such a slow and unobservant idiot, Ellis?'_

He hadn't factored in Thomas' tendency to mistrust. And to what degree was this mess a product of it? Richard hadn't forgotten about how stricken Thomas was after his last interactions with Villiers. Who else but Villiers - his penchant to twist words and facts - could have reduced him to such monstrous doubts? Just the insinuation of what might have gone down, to have Thomas fear anything remotely like _coercion,_ and from _Richard_ , made his blood boil.

_'God be my witness, if I ever get my hands on the manipulative little prick, I won't be held responsible for my actions...'_

There was no time to waste; he had to put an end to this, right now. 

* * *

Thomas' nerves were shot to pieces, to put it mildly. 

He couldn't do it. He really couldn't do it. 

What had possessed him to suggest this meeting so soon? Such a rookie mistake. He should have been more patient, he should have waited as long as necessary. He hadn't slept a wink the night before, tormented by the unpredictability of his surroudings; in his fatigued state, he wouldn't be ready to handle one of those idiotically twitchy interns, never mind to face a potential blackmailer. 

_'For heaven's sake, Man.Up. This was going to happen sooner or later.'_  
  
And where had his acting skills gone? He cringed inside at how pathetically obvious he was. In contrast, Richard seemed at the top of his game; was he going to drag it on, make Thomas sweat, make him-

 _'Get your act together! How will you go and strike a deal if you have a meltdown?'_

And suddenly Richard was standing in front of him and was lifting his right hand in his, stroking lightly. Did he mean to be kind or suggestive?

"I think my main reasons have always been clear." 

So his guess had been correct... easy, meaningless sex usually was the first thing most men seeked, Thomas would know. He felt the prickle of unwelcome tears gathering behind his eyelids - _no, not now, please not now_ \- and unsuccesfully willed his trembling frame to settle - _you and your foolish romantic notions..._

_'There's always a catch. This is what you get.'_

And yet, as he inquired after his wellbeing, Richard was frowning deeply in an earnest look of concern. Or was Thomas deluding himself? He didn't know anymore.

"I know I owe you, so stop doing this and just tell me exactly what you want!" Even with his voice cracking, his outburst made Richard hastily pull back. 

He resisted the urge to cover his face, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. It had been a huge, embarrassing failure with Philip; this was worse... more humiliating and painful because he had fallen again, and much harder at that... and why had Richard barged into his life and why on earth had Thomas let him? It also was this man's fault Thomas was losing it! It was his fault for making him **_feel_** things, for getting him to _hope_ -

And then Richard was reaching for him again. Thomas couldn't help shaking further as he felt that same hand trail along his arm, and curl around his neck, and hold it, pulling him towards the other man, closer and closer... and the beast woke again.

The voice was all but screaming at him, berating him - _don't you remember what happened the last time you showed weakness, don't you ever learn, stupid, stupid, stupid_ \- and although Thomas longed for him, wanted him more than he had ever wanted anyone else all his life... if Richard kissed him now, if Richard took him now, he felt he would shatter in one thousand pieces, he couldn't do it, he shouldn't do it... but he **_wanted_** , how he wanted, he wanted so much- _he has the upper hand, stop acting like a wimp and give him what he expects, now! You're alone, nobody will know... do it now and he might keep being nice to you in the long run-_

And then the flaming beast flickered and stuttered, as if the warm hand rubbing the back of Thomas' neck was somehow petting it, taming its fury and soothing its panic.   
And then Richard's firm lips - those lips Thomas _craved_ and also _dreaded_ , for they could devour him and chew him and spit him out in a broken heap once they were done with him - barely skimmed across his own as they moved to peck his forehead, then further up to press a lingering kiss to the top of his head; they nestled softly in his hair, resting there. 

"I'm sorry, _Thomas_ , forgive me..."

Both the chaste kisses and the unforeseen apology had the positive effect of snapping him out of his panicked haze. 

"I'm sorry I took for granted you would understand my intentions were good. I didn't think about it from your perspective..."

Feeling exhausted and light-headed, he let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, his stiff limbs relaxing as the paralysing sense of _danger!_ gradually started to melt away.

"... how suspicious it must have appeared... "

Not unlike one of those skittish woodland creatures looking for shelter, he hesitantly leaned forward and tucked his face into the inviting curve of Richard's shoulder, nose brushing the collar of his shirt.

"... how scared you would be-"

_'-of history repeating itself. Of you behaving like previous men have done.'_

"-that I might seek to hurt you." A new indignant tenseness in Richard's voice and body, the vivid impression of a coiled spring. "I swear, _I would **never**._" Ready to snap... not at him, _for_ him.

He squeezed his burning eyes shut, fingers gripping the front of his friend's shirt - yes, his _friend_ , and **_perhaps more_** , because that's what Richard was showing himself to be... and Thomas felt a bit weak in the knees at the way his name sounded in that rough timbre, and he _willed himself to believe._   
He started mumbling apologies against the starched fabric, because he was nasty and selfish and didn't deserve Richard, really didn't deserve this, but he had been yearning for it so desperately... in the last couple of years he had persuaded himself he wasn't meant for love and romance, that his cunning, difficult nature was only suited for brief dalliances and power games; in the end, his hopeless heart gave him away, that little hidden blossom reaching for a scrap of care and kindness always betrayed him, made him lose objectivity and take reckless leaps with men who were all to happy to squash it or exploit it for their gain... so please, _please,_ just let him have one person in his life who wouldn't turn on him and use him and snap at him, until he couldn't fight back anymore...

Richard kept speaking, voice lowered to a soothing whisper: "For both our sakes, let me be perfectly clear now: that wasn't me doing you a dirty favour and expecting compensation for it, nor am I going to dangle information over your head and take advantage of you. I helped you because you needed it, I was in a position to do it, and it was the right thing to do." Then his tone, quiet as it was, grew fierce and resolute: "But I won't lie to you... I confess I also helped you because I couldn't bear seeing you upset, because I've _liked_ you since we first met... and I am interested in you, in getting to know you, properly. And while you being free is good enough and I would never, _under any circumstances_ , ever impose my feelings on you..." here his tone changed again, the unsure and the hopeful bleeding through. "... would I be mistaken to think you have feelings for me, too?" 

Thomas' heart skipped a beat at such candid words. Unable to hold back any longer, he drew a ragged breath and let himself go. He quietly let himself cry, basking in the overwhelming knowledge he was going to be allright this time, that it was safe for him to accept some real, warm comfort - that it was finally safe for him to just _be_.   
He couldn't help revelling in such a massive, indescribable sensation... born of the fact he could really lower his guard, for once, and know with absolute certainty that no strike of any kind would be coming, no derisive remark would mortify him, no cruel proposition would follow a deceptively tender gesture.   
He was intensely aware of Richard's other arm encircling his waist in a solid grip, but it was no trap aiming to scratch and wound, nor a cage meant to imprison; the roaring beast was silent, at last. 

"You shouldn't be apologizing, not for showing you care... " he whispered back, after regaining some calm. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. Sometimes I have done... things, the whole issue with Philip the worst. I was attracted to you, yet I didn't want to admit to myself I _liked_ you. After his threat, I was so afraid for both of us I kept you at arm's lenght by mistreating you." He paused for a longer moment, tasting the salt of tears on his lips. "Despite that, you chose to take a risk and come to my aid. I'm so sorry, _Richard_... and thank you, for not giving up on me-" _'where most people would have.'_ "As for your question..." his damp cheeks heated up; he self-consciously rubbed his face against Richard's shirt, as if he could somehow erase the blush. _'Christ, w_ _hat is wrong with you? You might be young, but you're not a little lad with a crush.'_ "... you are absolutely **not** mistaken about my feelings."

* * *

Richard felt his heart soar at the indirect confession and beamed with irrepressible joy. Moreover, he utterly adored the way Thomas enunciated his first name, as if tearing down another barrier between them. As the world kept turning and bringing change, some things would remain a constant: for him, there were very few sensations equal to the mind-blowing knowledge that you were in the right place, at the right time, and your emotions were truly reciprocated. Without thinking, he brought Thomas flush against him with a swift tug at the waist, and bent his head to land a soft kiss on the side of his neck, only to wonder belatedly whether his loving touches would be regarded as overbearing by his vulnerable friend.

 _'He's_ _nervous already, you're going to scare him off - control yourself!'_

He needn't have worried so much. For his part, a newly reassured Thomas proved all too eager in the face of Richard's genuine affection: he responded with a couple of somewhat timid kisses to his jaw and right beneath his ear; he then slipped his hands around to grip the back of his shirt instead, returning the hug fully. He all but melted against him, with the same languor of a cat flopping on a beloved cushion.   
Judging from the tentative approach (and Thomas had been, so very tentative, as if convinced he was walking into a trap and still unable to stop, lured by the illusion of a gentle touch; and Richard felt the urge to encourage him, get him to understand it was no illusion, that he would not be rejected again, not anymore), Richard had a vague suspicion Thomas craved this sort of intimate touch to a great extent, yet had often been starved of it... or perhaps he had been made to feel ashamed about seeking it. This last and particularly awful idea sickened him, threatening to reawaken the dormant beast of rage inside of him; he pushed it down, deep down - _not now, now it's not the time for that_ \- and merely tightened his embrace, hoping to offer more security.   
Perhaps he was getting too ahead of himself, but... if he had his way, he would make it so that Thomas should **never** feel shame for needing physical contact ever again. If he had his way, he would make it his mission that Thomas would **never** be left wanting for contact ever again. 

All of a sudden, both the comfortable silence they had drifted into and his restless musings were interrupted by a familiar happy trill. Thomas lifted his head from Richard's shoulder and hooked his chin on his collarbone, then murmured: "Butler is staring at us."

"Do you remember what I said about that?"

"... he enjoys paying attention to things he likes?"

"Precisely."

"Does that mean he approves of this 'union'? Or should I expect a jealous ambush for monopolizing his _infuriating_ owner?" Thomas joked weakly. 

"You know perfectly well you've had his 'blessing' since day one, you _unbelievable_ scoundrel." Richard fired back without heat.

As cliché as it was, the resulting laugh was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to play with a modern version of S1-ish Thomas in a role reversal with Philip as the blackmailer. He is stuck in a bad pattern, until Hello! Workmate Richard takes a shine to him; our silly boy is on board with some flirting, but romance? Hell no, no more...  
> I tried to explore Thomas getting into a "there is always a catch" mindset, by having him doubt Richard when his judgement is clouded. I also tried to give Richard a bit of an edge, that's how I see it from what little we got in the movie.  
> Not sure I managed what I was going for, I hope you enjoyed it anyway!  
> 


End file.
